


Dragon Age Polyamory Week 2016 Prompts

by masulevin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Darkspawn, Drinking Games, First Impressions, Grey Wardens, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Templars (Dragon Age), Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, confusing feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: My entries for this year's polyamory week, staring Sophie Amell, Nathaniel Howe, and Anders during Dragon Age: Awakening.Anders and Sophie know each other from their time in Ferelden's Circle, but when they meet Nathaniel Howe at Vigil's Keep, everything changes.Prompts:1. First Impressions2. To Work3. Now We See Blood4. AU/Crossover5. Happy Satinalia!6. Licking Lampposts in Winter (NSFW)7. Forever, This Time





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Check out these stories on [my tumblr](http://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/tagged/dapolyweek), or visit the DA Poly Week tumblr [here](http://dapolyweek.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> And by appreciated, I mean they make my whole day.

Anders wastes no time picking up where he and Sophie left off. As soon as he realizes she’s the person who found him killing the darkspawn, he engulfs her in a hug, picking her up off of the floor. She drops her staff and wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly, darkspawn invasion be damned.

After a long moment, Anders puts Sophie down and grabs her face, studying her face as if checking to make sure it’s really her. She puts her hands on his and pushes up onto her tiptoes. He obeys her unspoken command and kisses her firmly, long fingers moving to tangle in golden hair that’s so much shorter than it was last time he saw her in Kinloch.

How long has it been? She responds just as he remembers, with gentle sighs and hands clutching at the front of his robes. It was before his year of solitary, before her year fighting the archdemon, before either of them became the people they are now.

The recruit leading Sophie through the keep clears her throat and looks away at the display, reminding both of them where they are. He releases her, and she rocks back onto her heels with a smile and unfocused eyes, taking a precious moment to come back to herself.

When she does, her expression hardens, the flush disappearing from her cheeks faster than it had arisen. “We’ll finish this later,” she says, picking her staff back up and rotating her shoulders. Anders grins at her, but she doesn’t smile back. She’s all business again, looking exactly like the Hero of Ferelden he heard about.

He follows her without question.

\---

Sophie’s surprised at her reaction to finding Nathaniel Howe in her dungeon. After she gets over the surprise that the Vigil  _ has  _ a dungeon, she makes her way down there alone to judge the prisoner.

He’s more handsome than she expected, looking nothing like she remembers his father. He stands as she begins speaking, leaning casually against the wall like there isn’t a line of bars separating them. He answers all of her questions honestly, explaining that he just wanted to take some of his family’s possessions back.

When he says nothing’s keeping him from returning and killing her if she lets him go, she actually laughs. It reminds her of the first time she met Zevran, when he so casually reclined in the dirt and smiling up at her even though she held his life in her hands. 

Nathaniel might not be smiling, but he’s just as cavalier about his life. She leans into the bars in front of him, one hand on her hip, her head tilted to the side. He meets her gaze easily, jaw set, as she surveys him.

She runs her options through her mind, easily deciding to let him go. She can’t bare the thought of sentencing him to death, even if he wanted to kill her first, and she doesn’t want to conscript anyone who isn’t willing.

His eyes widen but otherwise his expression doesn’t change. She feels a sense of… she isn’t sure, protectiveness, perhaps, when she looks at him. She wants to make sure he knows he’s safe with her, even if she isn’t necessarily safe with him.

She hands him his possessions and their eyes lock as their fingers touch, and he blinks at how warm her skin feels. He turns to leave without speaking, but not before she notices the flush on his cheeks.

She watches him walk away, flanked by Seneschal Vael and another guard, then leaves to find Anders, a little smile on her face.

\---

Nathaniel walks all the way to Amaranthine with thoughts of the Warden-Commander, the new  _ arlessa, _ swirling through his mind. He didn’t expect to receive mercy from her. He didn’t expect to receive  _ anything  _ from her, truth be told, because he planned to kill her to avenge his father. That plan fell through, and then he had three days alone in the cell to think about what he was doing, about the fatal mistake he almost made.

His father was a good man once. Whether he changed while Nathaniel was in the Free Marches is another question entirely--some people obviously think he had, but surely that doesn’t warrant murder. Did it?

He stays in the inn for several days, running the questions over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what he’ll do with his life now. He’s no longer the heir to Vigil’s Keep. He has no fortune to fall back on. He has no family to go to for support. He’s a good rogue; maybe he can find work as a mercenary. He certainly won’t be able to join the Fereldan army, not with whatever his father did hanging over his head.

A little thought occurs to him, then grows until he stands and packs up his belongings to leave the inn. 

He can join the Grey Wardens.

They’ll give him something to live for. He’ll help them fight the darkspawn that refuse to go back to the Deep Roads. Maybe he’ll be able to bring some honor back to the Howe name.

He tries to ignore the image of the Warden-Commander letting him go with the things he had been trying to steal. She looked so tired, even a little sad as she stared down at him. Her plump lips twisted into a smile when he lept to his feet and her whole face lit up. That image--along with the way her mage robes hugged her curves--kept coming unbidden to his mind during moments of silence.

And being on his own, moments of silence are nearly all he has.

\---

Anders and Sophie are returning to the Vigil from the coast when they run into Nathaniel walking back from Amaranthine. They meet at the crossroads, arriving at almost the same time.

Sophie sees Nathaniel first, and she immediately stops walking. She doesn’t reach for her staff, leaving her hands hanging loosely by her sides. Anders, acting on instinct, pulls his staff off of his back and steps in front of her, holding his staff out defensively. She places one hand on his arm, steadying him, and moves to the side so she can see Nathaniel.

The rogue bows to Sophie with both hands clasped over his chest. She arches her brows at the sign of respect, but keeps silent. She waits for him to speak, head tilted slightly to the side as she looks up at him. Between them, Anders stands stiffly, but Sophie can’t see his face to judge his reaction.

The silence stretches between them for a long moment until Nathaniel finally speaks. His gravelly voice is low, more deferential than it was when she first saw him in the Vigil’s dungeon. “You set me free. Just let me go, despite what I said or what I might do. I just… I want to know  _ why _ .”

His question is genuine, almost innocent in his quest for understanding. Anders relaxes slightly between them, resting the bottom of his staff on the road.

Sophie considers her answer for a minute before speaking with a tiny sign. “I’m not looking to fight with you.” She doesn’t say that she feels bad for him growing up with a father like Howe, that she knows he was innocent of his father’s crimes, that she knows what it was like to lose your family. She gives him the simplest answer she can find, and that seems to be enough for him.

He nods. “Even though I was looking for a fight with you.” He doesn’t sound apologetic. He’s just stating a fact. His regret didn’t make it any less true. “Take me with you. Make me a Grey Warden.”

Anders coughs out a laugh before Sophie steps forward and smoothly elbows him in the side. Nathaniel raises an eyebrow at the easy contact between them, but doesn’t react otherwise. Sophie crosses her arms across her chest and stares up at Nathaniel, trying to read his intentions.

“It’s not that easy, Nathaniel.” It doesn’t sound to him like she’s trying to let him down easy; it sounds more like a warning. She’s giving him a chance to back out, but her imagined challenge just strengthens his resolve.

He decides to be honest with her. His eyes flick from her green ones to Anders’ steely blue, and he quickly decides that the other mage is no threat to him. “I have nowhere to go,” he starts slowly, watching as Sophie’s eyes soften in understanding. “I fully expected to die in there, maybe I even wanted to. But you let me go.” He pauses, then asks, “Make me a Grey Warden. Let me try.  _ Please _ .”

It almost sounds like begging, and he would be ashamed to speak that way to anyone else, anyone besides this woman who showed him such a profound mercy. Even the tall, lanky mage seems to understand his feelings, because he reaches out and clasps Nathaniel’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

Sophie glances from one man to the other, a small smile playing across her face before she suddenly grows serious again. “Very well. Let’s see how you do with the joining.”

She pushes past both of them and leads the way back to the Keep. Nathaniel tries not to watch the sway of her hips as she walks, the way she glances back at them over her shoulder with a strange little smile on her face.

Anders replaces his staff on his back and slings one wiry arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders, pulling him along with an air of camaraderie that made Nathaniel’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He racks his brain to place a name to the emotion, but it eludes him, and he has to content himself with pulling away from the mage’s embrace.

Nathaniel doesn’t move far, however, choosing instead to remain walking by Anders’ side. The two men follow behind their Warden-Commander without speaking, the silence feeling oddly… companionable.

Sophie glances over her shoulder once more as they pass through the Vigil’s outer gates. The two men following her are walking close to each other, occasionally sneaking glances at each other, sizing each other up. She bites the inside of her lip and straightens her spine as she looks forward again, nodding a greeting to the guards.

She learned from her Joining and from the Joining she oversaw on her first day as Warden-Commander not to hope for recruits to live, not to get too attached to them before she knows if they’re going to live. She felt disappointment at Mhairi’s passing, not because she’d become attached to the girl, but because she’d been such a good fighter.

If Nathaniel doesn’t make it… She shakes her head and rubs at her forehead with the heel of one hand before pushing into the keep’s main hall. This isn’t the time to be letting this strange… attraction fester. She just has to get them through the next hour and then she can worry about it. She can’t stop to worry about whether or not he’s going to survive.

But,  _ Maker,  _ she wants him to survive.


	2. To Work?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During what’s supposed to be a brief trip to Amaranthine, Anders drags Sophie and Howe to hunt for his phylactery. In the resulting fight with the templars, the mages are incapacitated by a holy smite, leading Sophie to decide they should spend the night in the city to recuperate before heading back to the Vigil.
> 
> This story features some canon-typical violence and slightly-drunk snuggling.

Nathaniel stares at the Knight-Lieutenant with his jaw clenched. He followed Sophie and Anders on their quest to find their phylacteries, even though he could tell it was a terrible idea. Now here they are, face to face with an angry templar who is glaring with her hand on her sword.

Anders reacts first, yelling with more true emotion than Nathaniel has ever heard from the man. “What! No, you can't arrest me! King Alistair allowed my conscription!” Lightning crackles around his fingertips, and Nathaniel nocks an arrow, just in case, keeping a wary eye on the templars.

Rylock scowls, and the hairs on Nathaniel’s arms stand on end as she draws on her powers, sending out a cleanse to remove Anders’ spell. “The Chantry’s authority supersedes the crown in this matter,” she snaps. “You cannot hide within the Grey Warden’s ranks.”

That makes Sophie’s mouth twist into a snarl, and she takes a hard step forward. Anders alters his stance so that he’ll be able to draw his staff quickly if he needs it. Rylock notices this too and her fingers clench around her sword’s hilt even as she turns her attention to Sophie.

The little mage draws herself up to her full height, lifting her chin to stare into Rylock’s eyes. Nathaniel glances quickly at her to see the little tremble in her hands--years of living in the Circle deeply instilled her fear of templars, but she’s standing firm, protecting Anders.

This is the same strong woman who slew the archdemon at the king’s side. The woman who gathered an army in less than a year, inspiring a blighted nation to fight for its own survival. The woman who looked at Nathaniel and decided he was worth saving, worth her mercy. She looked at Anders too and decided he was hers, and now she’s going to make good on that decision.

Nathaniel snaps his attention back to the templar as Sophie says, “No, he stays with us.”

Rylock matches Sophie’s snarl with one of her own. “Hardly surprising, from another  _ mage _ .” She turns her attention back to Anders and draws her sword. “I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught. Now you come with us.”

The room explodes into action as the three templars each unleash holy smites. Sophie and Anders both crumple, their legs giving out as the sudden lack of mana makes them collapse. Nathaniel looses the arrow he already nocked before drawing and shooting off two more in rapid succession as he moves away from Rylock.

Two of the templars drop immediately, Nathaniel’s arrows embedded deep in their flesh. Rylock charges at him as he retreats, and he drops his bow in favor of his twin daggers. He dodges out of her way, cloaking himself in shade so that she can’t see where he’s doing. He swings around behind her, daggers searching for a weak point in her armor. 

She spins, slamming the pommel of her sword into his side. A rib cracks under the impact, and he hisses through his teeth as he dances out of her way. She’s faster than other people he’s fought, her templar training--or maybe whatever power templars have to control mages--giving her an advantage that he isn’t used to.

He dodges her blows as often as he can, slashing at her with his daggers until one finds purchase under her raised arm. It slices deeply between her ribs and she drops her sword, allowing Nathaniel to draw his other dagger across her throat.

He’s back by Sophie’s side before Rylock hits the floor, hands cupping her face. She blinks up at him, not really seeing him through the haze left behind by the smite. He brushes a lock of blond hair off of her forehead and her eyes focus slightly. When she recognizes him, she smiles softly and raises one hand up to tug on the end of his dark hair.

“Nate,” she murmurs, lowering her hand again to rub her face as she slurs, “ ’m gonna be sick.” He reacts immediately, helping her roll onto her side as she coughs and retches.

As soon as she’s done, he pulls her away from her sick and lays her gently back down. She grasps his hand as he tries to smooth her hair again and squeezes his fingers.

“How can I help?” A rustle of fabric and a groan remind him that he hasn’t even checked on Anders yet, and he casts an anxious look at the other mage. He seems to be faring slightly better than their commander, because he’s already sitting up, but he’s extremely pale with sweat standing out on his face.

Anders reaches into the pouch on his belt and offers a small vial to Nathaniel. As he accepts it, their fingers brush, and a swirl of heat surges up his arm at the contact. He takes it and stares blankly at Anders for a moment, until the mage grunts out directions: “She needs to drink it.”

Nathaniel pops the top off of the bottle with his teeth before pressing it to Sophie’s lips. She parts them and lets him pour the glimmering blue liquid into her mouth. She swallows convulsively, coughs once, then sighs and relaxes. The color slowly comes back into her cheeks and she opens her eyes once more to see both men staring at her.

She sits up slowly, and Nathaniel has to lean back slightly to give her room. Their hands are still clasped, but he doesn’t let go until she pulls away, casting a wide-eyed glance at Anders. The mage still looks pale, but he evidently isn’t upset at their contact because he just grins lopsidedly at her.

Nathaniel sits back, scooting away from her, as his face heats. He isn’t sure what’s between the two mages, but suddenly he feels like he’s intruding on something. He shouldn’t have reacted so strongly to Sophie’s collapse, surely now she’ll start to think poorly of his ability to think clearly in a stressful situation.

She’ll start to think poorly  _ of him. _

She frowns at his movement, but he doesn’t know what it means. She turns away from him, to Anders, and directs her frown at the other mage instead. “Do you have more lyrium potions?” He shakes his head, and she sighs. “Not all of us are used to being smote--smited? I’ll have to start carrying my own if we’re going to be dealing with  _ templars _ .” She spits out the word like it’s a curse, and Nathaniel realizes for her it is. She glances over at Rylock’s body, then turns to look at Nathaniel over her shoulder. “I think you deserve a raise for this.”

He barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, and he’s rewarded with one corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk. He quickly looks back at Anders, and is relieved to see that the other mage is already looking nearly recovered from his fight.

Anders hauls himself to his feet and reaches a hand down to Sophie. She lets him pull her upright and stands wobbling for a moment before Nathaniel is on his feet and at her other side. He wraps an arm around her waist, and she leans against him gratefully, one hand still entwined with Anders’. 

Neither man wants to let go, and they look at each other over the top of her head for a second as though gauging each other’s intentions. Anders looks away first, content with whatever he sees in Nathaniel’s eyes, and says, “Let’s get you back to the Vigil.”

She shakes her head. “Let’s just go to the inn. We can stay the night and go back tomorrow. I don’t want to walk all the way back like this.”

Nathaniel is already nodding his assent before Anders sighs. Nathaniel leads the way through the abandoned warehouse and through the streets of Amaranthine. They earn themselves a few sideways glances as they walk tangled together, but once Sophie is recognized as the Warden-Commander, people give them a respectful distance.

In the inn, Anders negotiates with the innkeeper and receives the very last room available. Nathaniel helps Sophie up the stairs as Anders buys some food with the coins Sophie pressed into his hands, and quickly finds himself frowning at a room with one large bed in the middle of it.

Sophie pushes away from him and immediately crawls into the middle of the bed, laying facedown on the pillow. He stares at her for a moment, shifting from foot to food, until she rolls onto her side to glare at him.

“I can’t hear you brooding all the way over here,” she says mulishly. “You might as well take off your armor and get comfortable.”

He crosses his arms over his chest as his heart stutters. “You’re still wearing yours,” he points out.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “If you want me out of my armor, you’ll have to come unbuckle it yourself. I’m too tired.” She maintains eye contact, waiting, daring him to help. He takes a deep breath, trying to decide the seriousness of her words, before deciding that he couldn’t let his commander try to sleep in dragonskin armor regardless.

With a few long strides he’s across the room, sitting beside her. She pushes herself up woozily and lets him search for the buckles that held her armor together. He finds them easily enough, and soon he has each piece piled neatly on the table next to the bed. Sophie is left in a thin tunic and leather leggings, and she curls back into the pillow without commenting on her outfit.

Nathaniel swallows thickly and glances towards the closed door. What is taking Anders so long?

He looks back at Sophie, frowns down at her still form, then slowly starts to remove his own armor. She rolls over to watch him, and he does his best to ignore her proximity.

“Where did you get dragonskin armor, anyway? Don’t mages usually just wear robes?” He doesn’t turn to look at her, focusing on unlacing his boots, so he misses the sad little smile that crosses her face.

After a pause, she answers: “Should I have fought the archdemon in my Circle robes? Those things aren’t meant to protect us from  _ anything. _ ”

“Anders wears his.” One boot off, he focuses on the other, and hopes she doesn’t notice how slowly he’s moving. She does, but doesn’t mention it.

“I thought you’d know better by now than to question anything Anders does.”

Nathaniel chuckles and stands to pile his armor next to Sophie. When he turns back around, she’s moved to the very center of the bed, sitting up with her legs crossed, waiting for him. He keeps his eyes on hers as he sits at the very edge, trying to judge by her expression whether she’s okay with this.

She is.

“We… killed a high dragon.” Her eyes dance away from his briefly before finding their way back. He wonders who “we” is, but doesn’t ask. She obviously doesn’t want to explain. “And… well, you know Wade. He made the armor for me.”

“Ah.” There isn’t much left to say. “Where did you manage to find a high dragon?”

“In the Frostbacks. There was a cult worshipping her. They thought she was Andraste.” Nathaniel laughs, but he can tell from her expression that she’s serious. “We had to get past her to make it to the Urn of Sacred Ashes.”

Nathaniel blinks, mirth disappearing slightly. “The  _ mythical  _ ashes of Andraste? The ones with healing powers?”

She arches an eyebrow. “The very same. They healed Arl Eamon and helped us win the Landsmeet.”

“Huh. Imagine that.” He leans closer to her, relaxing just a little into the soft mattress. This makes her smile brighten, and she leans in too. The color is back in her cheeks, though she still has deep shadows under her eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about the werewolves?”

They sit together as Sophie goes through some of the more incredible things she witnessed during her time traveling Ferelden to stop the Blight, As she speaks, Nathaniel relaxes more into her voice until he’s lying lengthwise across the bed in front of her, head propped up on his arm.

That’s how Anders finds them when he finally shows up with their dinner. He has a tray piled high with food, three glasses, and two bottles of wine. Sophie stops speaking mid-sentence to survey the food as he climbs onto the bed next to her.

“I didn’t tell you to spend  _ all  _ of my money,” she points out, but Nathaniel can see the little smile she’s trying to hide.

Anders sniffs like she’s insulted him somehow and drops a few coins onto the blanket in front of her. She chuckles and scoops them up, moving to pile them on the table that holds her armor.

Nathaniel watches her move, giving in to the temptation to let his eye take in her form. He looks away before she turns back around, and catches Anders looking at him. He manages not to blush at being caught admiring Sophie’s ass, but he does blush at the wink Anders shoots him.

He looks away. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

The three of them eat together and drink both bottles of wine. Sophie’s cheeks flush quickly, less used to drinking than the two men who have become her favorite companions, and she giggles girlishly at the stories Anders is telling of the Circle.

Anders has caught the light mood that followed their battle, and Nathaniel is endlessly thankful that the mage isn’t going to grace them with another lecture on the problems with the Circles. He’s too tired to deal with that.

With dinner finished and the wine all gone, the three companions climb into bed to sleep. Sophie keeps her clothing on, sliding under the thin blanket in the center of the large bed, stretching out on her stomach. Anders pulled his robe off, leaving him in just a thin pair of trousers. He climbs in beside Sophie and lays on his side, rubbing the other mage’s back.

Nathaniel hesitates, unsure whether he should join them. After a moment, Sophie opens one eye and peers up at him.

“Just lay down, Nate,” she murmurs, voice slightly slurred by the wine. “ ‘s fine.”

He obeys, settling down stiffly on Sophie’s other side. Her eyes flutter closed and she slides one hand across the sheet to rest on his arm. He turns his head to look at her, but her breathing has already evened out into slumber.

Anders is still awake, though he seems to be drooping quickly. He still has one hand on Sophie’s back, but he’s smiling at Nathaniel. The rogue feels a tightness in his chest, a sense of belonging that he hasn’t felt in… well, ever. He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, trying to push the warmth of Sophie’s hand away from his heart if not from his arm.

She’s drunk. She must just be an affectionate drunk. This doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean that she returns any of the feelings he’s been harboring since she let him leave the Vigil with his family’s things. It doesn’t mean that she’ll be comfortable with what he feels towards her.

He falls into a fitful sleep, waking every time Sophie or Anders shift around. He wakes up once with his arm around Sophie, her face resting on his shoulder, one arm draped over his chest. He flickers back to consciousness enough to think he should move her, shift her back into Anders’ arms where she belongs, but he falls asleep before he can act on the thought, lulled by the warmth emanating from the mage’s body.

The next time he wakes up, it’s to long fingers stroking his arm. He still has his arms wrapped around Sophie, but Anders has somehow made it across the bed to join them. He’s draped one arm across Sophie’s body, resting his hand on Nathaniel’s bicep. His fingers are making little circles, but when Nathaniel stretches to see Anders’ face, the mage is sound asleep with his chin resting on the top of Sophie’s head.

Anders’ fingers are cold, a surprising contrast to Sophie’s warmth. It sends a shiver through Nathaniel, and Sophie mumbles something in her sleep that he can’t quite catch at the movement. She shifts closer to him, nuzzling against him, and Anders reacts as well. He pulls his hand away from Nathaniel, and the rogue finds himself frowning at the loss of contact before he knows what he’s thinking. Anders rests his hand on Nathaniel’s chest, moving one leg over Sophie to rest between Nathaniel’s feet. 

Nathaniel swallows hard, completely surprised by the feeling that comes with being held by both mages at one time, even if it’s in their sleep.

He feels at home.


	3. Jealousy & Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out I’m physically incapable of writing angst, so have some jealousy/comfort instead of an argument.
> 
> Nathaniel is confused by his feelings towards Sophie and Anders, and he isn’t sure what to do about his jealousy. Sophie notices that he’s upset and tries to help him work through it.
> 
> This story features some swearing and wine-flavored kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross posted on my [tumblr](http://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/post/152354816241/jealousy-comfort).

Nathaniel hates this feeling. He isn’t even really sure how to describe it, like he’s empty inside but at the same time too weighed down with something to be able to stand. It isn’t right for him to bristle whenever he sees Anders reach out and touch Sophie, or whenever Sophie presses an affectionate yet chaste kiss on the mage’s cheek.

He knows it isn’t right, and yet he feels it all the same.

It also shouldn’t bother him that he doesn’t know if he’s more bothered by the fact that they touch each other or by the fact that he isn’t sure which of them he wants to be touching him instead.

None of this makes sense. After waking up in a pile of limbs and blankets in Amaranthine, they haven’t mentioned it at all. Nathaniel shouldn’t be so caught up in the memory of Sophie holding him and Anders holding them both. She’s his commander, his superior officer, and Anders is his brother-in-arms. 

Even so. He can’t help but watch them when he thinks they aren’t looking, seeing how casually they show their affection with each other. His chest aches when he sees one touch the other, and he doesn’t know which one he’d rather be.

He tries to keep these feelings to himself. He can’t explain them to anyone even if they asked; he doesn’t even understand them himself. He just watches, silently, and follows Sophie’s orders like he always does.

If she notices his brooding and realizes that’s what it is, it isn’t really his fault. He tries to keep a professional demeanour, but Sophie has seen that exact same look on another man’s face. The same upset, hopeless longing of a man who knows he can’t have what he wants.

Even if that man is the king.

She asks Anders about it first. He hasn’t noticed, too wrapped up in the joy of having someone to hold again after a year in solitary and another year on the run. He’s older than she is, and more experienced, but he too has spent most of his life in the Circle.

Jealousy is rarely a problem in the Circles, at least not the one at Kinloch. Love and jealousy aren’t emotions that thrive in an environment designed to make mages complacent at best and fearful at worst.

His words to Oghren weren’t completely jest. Robes do make it easy for mages to fuck in secluded corners before the templars realize they’re missing.

His only solutions are those that work in the Circle: invite Nathaniel to join them, turn him down gently, or start spending time with him herself. It’s up to her.

She makes her way to Nathaniel’s room that night, a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand, intent on speaking with him. She knocks softly at his door and waits for him to let her in.

He does quickly, pulling on a tunic as he does, preparing for an emergency. His movements slow when he sees the wine and the raised eyebrows that the lean muscles of his stomach and chest have earned him from her.

Sophie snaps her gaze up to meet his eyes, a smile twisting her lips. She pushes past him into his room without invitation, sitting on the edge of his bed to fill the glasses. She offers him one and he takes it without hesitation, sitting down next to her.

They drink in silence for a few moments until she has to refill her glass, then she turns to look at him. He avoids her gaze, so she reaches out with one warm hand to grasp his chin. She turns his face toward her and stops breathing as she sees the heat radiating from his eyes.

“You’re hurting.” It isn’t a question, so he doesn’t answer. He inhales sharply and closes his eyes as her thumb traces along his jaw, then stops breathing altogether as she pulls his face to hers.

Their mouths brush together, barely touching. He’s not at all surprised to find that the fire mage’s pink lips are just as warm as the rest of her, and he chases her as she pulls away, kissing her with more insistence.

She smiles against him and pulls his wine glass away to put it next to hers on the little table. With both hands free, Nathaniel wraps his hands around Sophie’s waist and pulls her into his lap. She laughs and runs her hands into his dark hair, tangling her fingers in the long strands.

Their lips meet again and again, teasing and learning, the oaky taste of their shared wine flavoring their kisses. Sophie hums softly in approval, pulling on Nathaniel’s hair to encourage him to bare his throat to her. She follows the line of his jaw, planting open-mouthed kisses on his heated skin, until he suddenly pushes her away.

“Anders.” He can only manage the one word, all of his attention focused on resisting Sophie’s siren’s call.

She blinks at him, confused for a moment, then her lips twist into a smirk. “Anders?” she asks softly. “Do you want me to go get him?”

Nathaniel blinks at her, unable to form a denial to her offer.

Her smirk grows. “He’d be happy to join us if you want.” She noses against his jaw, not kissing him until he gives permission, but wanting him to know she wants to continue.

After a long moment, Nathaniel finds his words. “I thought the two of you were…”

“We are,” Sophie says, sitting back a little to look Nathaniel in the eyes. She’s never seen such beautiful eyes: grey flecked with silver and green. She could drown in them. “But that doesn’t mean you and I can’t too. Or you and Anders.” She pauses, then adds: “Or all three of us. Whatever you want, Nate.”

Nathaniel’s cheeks darken as he considers. His fingers tighten on Sophie’s waist, digging almost painfully into her flesh.

“Do you want me to go?” Her voice is quiet, calm, hiding the hope that he’ll say no. He shakes his head. “Do you want me to get Anders?”

His eyes flicker closed as heat floods his veins at the idea. He bites the inside of his lip before finally shaking his head. He’s been waiting to have Sophie in his arms since… well. She probably wouldn’t want to know how long he’s been dreaming of touching her like this.

He wants to take advantage of their time alone. He wants to show her how he worships her, but he doesn’t want her to think he doesn’t feel the same about Anders, too.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees her waiting for him to answer her with his words. He fishes around for them, swallowing hard.

Finally: “Not yet. I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

Sophie’s whole face lights up in a smile even as she blushes, and she closes the distance between them to reward his honesty.


	4. Neighbors AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU prompts I stole for this story: “I come home and find your cat in my sink after work” and “I work at home and I haven’t left my house in a while and you think I’m dead.”
> 
> This story features my old apartment building and what I look like when I work from home.

When Anders pulls into his regular parking spot under the large oak tree, he frowns to see the little black sedan still parked crookedly in the spot behind him. He tries to remember the last time it moved, but he can’t. The tree’s leaves have started piling on the car’s windshield, deeper than they should be if the car’s owner ever left her apartment.

He climbs out of his front seat and stretches out his long limbs. As he locks the door, he can’t help but glance up to the second floor balcony that he knows belongs to the woman in question. There are a few plants lined up on the railing, and from down here they look a little droopy.

Have they been watered lately?

He frowns, the thought following him into his apartment. He lets the door slam shut behind him and immediately leans down to scoop up the orange ball of fur that’s winding around his legs. Ser Pounce meows loudly, greeting his owner after a long day at work, and nuzzles Anders’ chin. Anders rewards the cat’s affections with a scratch behind the ear as he dropped his keys on the kitchen table.

As Ser Pounce quiets down, Anders tilts his head to focus on listening to any sounds coming from the upstairs apartment. Sometimes he can hear her walking around up there, the floors are so thin, but now… nothing.

“Have you seen our neighbor?” he asks Pounce. The cat just blinks slowly up at him and starts squirming to be put down. Anders lets him down, hesitating, then gives in to the impulse to go check on the girl upstairs.

He knocks gently on her door and then takes a step back, looking down at the doormat. He smiles slightly at its simple  _ go away  _ message, but doesn’t obey. After a moment of silence, his anxiety growing, he knocks again before starting to bounce on his toes.

Just as he was starting to give up and considering finding the apartment manager to check on her, the door opened just a few inches, enough for him to come face to face with his upstairs neighbor.

Who isn’t dead.

She raises her eyebrows at him and waits for him to speak. He opens his mouth and closes it once before finding his words, “Hi.” Well, that isn’t quite what he meant to say.

She grins and opens the door a little wider. “Hello.” She leans against the door jam, one hand on the knob, and he quickly looks her up and down. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that slightly too big for her, a pair of running shorts, and slippers. Her blond hair is chopped off in a pixie cut, wavy from letting it air dry. She doesn’t seem to be wearing any makeup, but her skin is clear and her lips are pink, and he feels himself blushing as he realize she’s been watching him gawk at her.

He needs to say something. “You’re… not dead.” He winces even as she barks out a surprised laugh. It’s loud and echoes around the empty corridor.

“Not yet,” she acknowledges. She squints at him, thinking, taking in the scrubs and nametag. “You’re in apartment 324, right? Downstairs?” When he nods, she smiles. “With the fat cat?”

“He isn’t fat,” Anders objects automatically. “It’s his fur.”

She laughs again and takes a step back from the door, opening it wider. “Do you want to come in? I was just making some tea.” He hesitates, and she adds, “You can tell me why you thought I was dead.”

He chuckles and follows her in, kicking his shoes off by her door and padding after her in his socks. She pulls a mug out of one of her cupboards, and tosses him a box of tea bags. “I have earl grey or one of those herbal ones,” she offers, and waits as he selects the flavor he wants.

He hovers as she prepares the tea, then they both sit down at her table. She sits across from him, crossing her legs over each other and bouncing the top one. Almost immediately, a brown blur flies through the air and then suddenly there’s a little dog sitting in the empty chair between them. It props its little paws up on the table and sniffs at the air, checking to see if its humans are eating anything interesting.

When nothing smells appetizing, it sits down politely, and turns to look at Anders. He’s surprised to see intelligence in its dark eyes, and he reaches one hand out for the dog to sniff.

“This is Radagast,” she says, cupping both hands around her mug. “Radagast, say hello.”

The little dog yips, and Anders laughs. “Is this Radagast the Brown?”

She nods and smiles as Anders smooths his hand down Radagast’s wiry fur, then says, “So. My name is Sophie.”

Anders blinks at her, realizing he never introduced himself. “I’m Anders.”

She grins, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Care to tell me why you thought I was dead?”

He sighs and covers his face with his hands, hiding his blush from Sophie’s giggles. “You haven’t moved your car in a while, and I haven’t seen you at the mailboxes or anything.”

“Mmm.” She hums an acknowledgement of his worries, and he peers at her over his fingers. “I work from home.” She gestures with her head over to her living room, where a desk has been set up against one wall. It holds a computer, an extra monitor, and an almost chaotic assortment of papers and books. “And I haven’t needed to go anywhere.”

Anders’ whole face lights up with understanding. “Oh! That’s… that’s good.”

She giggles. “It’s good to know someone would miss me if I just up and died though.” He coughs and shifts in his chair before taking a sip of his tea.

They’re saved from having to find something else to say by a loud knocking coming from downstairs. They both jump at the noise, exchanging glances, and it comes again even louder. They both leap to their feet and move to the door, Anders moving faster with his long legs.

He opens her it and pauses, listening, and the knocking comes again from directly below them, followed by a string of curses. Anders looks down through the apartment walkway, and he can see a brunette man standing at the front door of his apartment holding…

“Ser Pounce!”

He takes off at a jog down the stairs, followed by a curious Sophie and Radagast. The dog trails obediently behind his master, following her down the stairs and sitting at her heels when she stops to look at the two men.

The newcomer is holding Anders’ cat, a scowl on his face. She’s seen him a few times before, so he must live in the building. How does he have the cat?

“I found him in my sink,” he says, glaring at Anders. “His tag says #324, so I’m trying to return him.” The cat looks comfortable in the stranger’s arms; Sophie can even hear him purring. He holds him out to Anders, who takes the cat and cradles him like a baby.

“How did you get all the way over there, Pounce?” Anders coos, rocking the fluffy cat.

Sophie looks down at Radagast, who looks entirely put out at the scene in front of them. He cocks his head and looks from the cat to Sophie, then snorts.

“Thanks for returning him,” Anders says, looking up at the newcomer. He can’t help but give the man an appreciative once over too: he has dark hair about the same length as Anders’, grey eyes, and is wearing clothes that say he just got home from an office job.

Sophie studies the man too, enjoying the view as much as Anders is. “Are you 321?” At the man’s nod, she continued: “I’m 328, but you can call me Sophie. This is Radagast. Radagast, say hello.” As before, the dog yips. The new man just blinked down at him. “Anders belongs to that cat, I guess. Anders, say hello.”

Anders shoots her a smirk, then turns back around. “Hello.”

“I’m Nathaniel,” says the new guy, a smile finally lighting his grey eyes. “I just moved in.”

“Welcome to the building!” Sophie says, inspiring another yip from Radagast, who spins around in a little circle. Nathaniel chuckles at that and bends down to offer the dog his hand. Radagast sniffs Nathaniel’s fingers, then offers his head to be scratched.

Sophie smiles. “He likes you. Oh! You should join us for tea.”

“Tea?” Nathaniel echoes.

“Yeah, come on. If we’re going to be neighbors, we should get to know each other.” She turns and walks up the stairs without looking behind her. Nathaniel and Anders exchange a look as Radagast barks at them once before scurrying to follow.

Anders chuckles, moving to drop Ser Pounce back in his apartment and shutting the door firmly behind him. He looks at Nathaniel with his hand still on his doorknob and grins down at the man. “Let’s not keep our lady waiting.”

When he walks up the stairs, Nathaniel follows.


	5. Happy Satinalia!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story features some sleepy snow day cuddles and mild gift-giving.

Anders’ favorite thing about Sophie is how _warm_ she is. No matter what the situation or how cold it is in the Vigil after their fire has gone cold, she emanates heat. He’s always cold. He’s always been cold, more at home creating chunks of ice and snow than flames. She’s just the opposite, and every morning they share a bed he finds himself completely wrapped around her little form, perpetually icy hands pressed against her warm skin.

This morning is no different. It snowed all night long, and they wake up to a keep silent and sleepy. Anders nuzzles closer to her, cold nose pressing against the back of her neck, and she grunts in quiet annoyance. He chuckles against her skin and she shivers at the sensation.

“If you light the fire I won’t have to do this,” he murmurs, and she sighs her understanding, but doesn’t move to either get away from his iced skin or to rouse the sleeping fire. He smirks and places a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck, earning another breathy sigh.

They lay entwined together into the morning, drifting in and out of sleep, the grey light filtering through the windows belying the lateness of the hour. No sounds disturb them from the courtyard or the hallways, and the hours blend together until they lose track of time entirely.

A timid knock rouses Anders from his slumber, and he slides out of bed to open the door. He stares at Nathaniel as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, waiting for the rogue to say something.

Nathaniel doesn’t disappoint. “Are you two planning on sleeping all day, or are you going to join the festivities?”

“Festivities?” Anders frowns down at his friend, mind working to attach meaning to Nathaniel’s words.

The rogue just sighs. “For Satinalia.”

Sophie rolls over in the bed, sitting up with the blankets draped over her head like a hood. “Is that today?”

“How did you _both_ forget Satinalia?” Nathaniel demands, eyebrows lifting.

The mages shrug. “It’s more of a… pious day in the Circle,” Sophie explains. “Lots of praying and maybe an extra helping of pudding if we were lucky.”

Nathaniel looks from Sophie’s sleep-rumpled form to Anders’, then rolls his eyes to look at the ceiling for a long moment. “Oh, for the love of…” He turns and stalks away, back down the corridor.

Anders leans out of the doorway to watch him walk, then turns and shrugs to Sophie. He kicks the door closed with one foot before flopping back on their bed, pulling her down on top of him. She laughs and covers him with the blankets before kissing him softly, just teasing her lips across his.

Anders only manages to trail his hands down Sophie’s sides to her hips when the door opens again and Nathaniel walks in like he belongs. He has two boxes balanced in his hands, and he shuts the door behind him, leaning against it as Sophie pulls herself back to a sitting position on the mattress.

“Satinalia,” Nathaniel says clearly, looking from one mage to the other, “is for feasting, presents, and spending time with people you love. Some towns made their fool the ruler for the day.”

Sophie eyes the boxes. “I’m not putting Oghren in charge of the Wardens,” she says firmly, then stops to consider the rest of what he said. “Are you saying you _love_ us?”

Nathaniel huffs, ruddy skin hiding his blush, and ignores the jibe. “Vael has a big meal planned for everyone tonight, but I wanted to give you both these. In private.” He crosses the space between them and sits on the bed next to Sophie, passing each a box without looking at the packages.

Anders and Sophie exchange glances, but Sophie takes her box easily and shifts until her knee is pressed against Nathaniel’s side. He rests one hand on her thigh as both mages start to open their Satinalia presents.

Sophie gets into her box first, pulling the lid off only to freeze as she stares at its contents. “Oh, Nate,” she murmurs, voice low. Anders looks over at the pair, eyebrows raised, and waits to open his gift as she pulls a delicate chain from its nest of tissue paper. Dangling from the center link of the chain is a small stone, and she holds it close to her face so she can see the little markings on it. “A protection rune?”

Nathaniel nods and takes it from her, fastening it around her neck. The rune settles over her shift between her breasts, immediately surrounding her with its protective magic. She sighs as the warmth embraces her, and she leans in to press a firm kiss to Nathaniel’s lips. He smiles against her, chasing her as she pulls away to kiss her again.

When they break away, Anders has already put his matching necklace on and is smirking at Sophie’s flushed cheeks. “Do I get a kiss as well, or is that a special present for our commander?”

Nathaniel arches an eyebrow. “If you’d like,” he answers with his usual mild tone. Anders’ eyes spark as he leans past Sophie to claim his own kiss from their rogue. Nathaniel leans into this kiss as well, clever fingers twining into blonde hair that is longer and finer than Sophie’s.

Anders pulls away with an approving hum, turning as Sophie sighs, “I didn’t get a present for either of you.”

Nathaniel pulls her in to kiss her temple. “You get us presents all the time. You don’t need to get us anything for Satinalia.” He turns to Anders with a growing smirk. “ _You_ have a few hours yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can come up with something.”


	6. Licking Lampposts on Satinalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story immediately follows day 5, “Happy Satinalia,” and features a game of Never Have I Ever and some good old fashioned couch sex.

The Satinalia festivities are winding to a close when Sigrun suddenly sits up straight where she’s lounging on her chair. “Oh!” she exclaims, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “I have an idea.”

Sophie is draped across the couch between Nathaniel and Anders, her back against one with her legs draped over the lap of the other. She was starting to fall asleep, lulled by the warmth of her men on either side of her, but she perks up when she hears her friend’s voice.

Sigrun continues speaking, needing no encouragement other than having everyone’s attention turned to her. “We used to play this game between fights in the Legion. I say something that I haven’t done, and if you  _ have  _ done it, you take a drink!”

Anders laughs, the rumbling noise vibrating against Sophie’s back. She smirks in response, remembering their days of playing that very game in the Circle. Sigrun raises her eyebrows at their laughter, waiting.

“Okay, let’s play,” Sophie says, holding out her glass for Nathaniel to refill. He grabs the wine bottle from the table and tops off everyone’s glass. “You start, Sig.”

Sigrun beams at the nickname, then leans back in her chair. Her gaze loses focuses for a moment as she thinks, then she snaps back to attention. “Okay. Never have I ever had sex in the Deep Roads.”

Oghren and Sophie both raise their glasses; the dwarf takes a much deeper drink than the mage, and misses the looks of horror they receive from everyone else.

“Andraste’s ass, not with  _ each other!”  _ Sophie all but yells her denial, and Anders lets out a relieved chuckle behind her.

Oghren scowls. “And what would be wrong with that?” he demands, slamming his tankard down on the table as he leans forward. “You’d be lucky to have a man as dashing and bearded as me. You’re just… too leggy for me.” Sophie rolls her eyes as he strokes his beard. “ _ Fine. _ Never have I ever  _ fucked _ the King of Ferelden.”

All eyes turned to Sophie as she calmly takes a long pull from her glass. Anders makes a quiet noise of understanding, remembering the looks that were exchanged between the visiting monarch and the Warden-Commander on the day he was conscripted.

Nathaniel is frowning. “When did  _ that  _ happen?”

Sophie considers. “Outside Denerim, in Orzammar, the Deep Roads, the Frostback Mountains, Redcliffe, the B--” She’s cut off as Anders slides his large hand over her mouth, laughing behind her. 

“That’s enough; we get the picture.” Even Nathaniel looks amused now. “Is it my turn?” At everyone’s nods, Anders considers. Sophie wiggles in his grasp, pulling his hand away from her mouth. She gently nips at the pad of his thumb and he hums quietly in approval before speaking. “Okay. Never have I ever fucked a templar.”

Sophie rolled her eyes up to look at the ceiling as she was once again the only one to take a drink. “Are you guys playing this game  _ with  _ me or  _ at  _ me?” She doesn’t elaborate, not wanting to talk about the sweet templar she lost after leaving the Circle to join the Wardens. “Fine. Never have I ever been caught  _ servicing  _ a fellow apprentice in the Chantry by the Knight-Commander.”

Laughter ripples through the group as Anders makes a show of finishing his glass and asking for more wine.

It’s Nathaniel’s turn, so he stops to consider. The hand not holding his glass rubs lazy circles on Sophie’s leg under her robe, moving from her ankle to her knee and back down again. It sends pleasant tingles through her and she relaxes against Anders as she waits for his turn.

“Never have I ever… been with an elf.” His eyes dance around their circle as Sigrun, Anders, and Sophie all drink.

Sophie sits up and puts her hand on his shoulder, then takes a deep breath as the room spins around her. “Is that why you were always flirting with Velanna?”

He turns to glare at her, but before he can answer Sigrun starts giggling. “I have some bad news for you there, Howe.” All eyes are on the dwarf as she continues laughing, face turning pink under her tattoos. Sophie starts laughing first, but the rest of the group quickly succumbs to the alcohol-flavored amusement.

Even Nathaniel manages a chuckle, momentary hurt soothed by Sophie reaching out to wind her fingers into his hair. She bends one knee to rest the heel of her foot against the inside of his thigh, pressing lightly. He covers her foot with his hand and glances over at her, and she winks at his light blush.

“Sigrun, it’s your turn again.” Sophie turns her gaze on the dwarf even as she casually slides her foot out of Nathaniel’s hand, moving it in little circles along his thigh. He shifts under her attentions and grabs the blanket from the back of the couch to drape over his lap. The dwarves are too invested in their drinks to notice the movement, but Anders leans forward to nuzzle against Sophie’s neck. 

“Are you teasing our rogue, Commander?” his voice is pitched low, just a whisper, and she doesn’t answer. She tilts her head to the side, giving him room to press a line of kisses from her shoulder blade to her ear. 

Sigrun finally stops giggling long enough to say, “Okay, okay. Never have I ever been with a  _ man. _ ”

At this, all three Wardens on the couch drink. Sophie keeps up her gentle teasing, running her heel along Nathaniel’s hardening length. He huffs out a breath and takes another drink, even though Oghren hasn’t taken his turn yet.

“How have you  _ never  _ been with a man?” Oghren demands, words slurring together. He hiccups. “You don’t know what you’re missing!”

Sigrun curls her upper lip into a grimace. “I don’t need to try to know I’m not interested,” she points out.

Oghren just shakes his head, completely flabbergasted by her casual dismissal. “But you--”

“Oh, leave her alone, Oghren,” Sophie says, using her Commander Voice. “You’re just mad because you’re losing the game.”

Oghren looks down at his mug, still full from the beginning of the game, and immediately downs it in just a few gulps. Finished, he slams the empty tankard on the table and belches, making everyone else grimace.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. “I’m going to bed.” He stands and wobbles from the room, weaving unsteadily around the furniture.

As soon as he’s out of the room, all eyes turn back to Sigrun, who’s giggling again. “I should go find Velanna,” she says, voice cheerful. She downs the rest of her drink as well before making her way out of the room, steps much more steady than Oghren’s had been.

As soon as they’re alone, Nathaniel slides his hand up under Sophie’s robe from her knee to her hip, turning his body into hers so he can capture her lips in a searing kiss. She makes a tiny squeak of surprise as he groans against her lips, fingers having found the bare skin under her robe.

Anders starts kissing her neck again, trailing his lips across her warm skin even as he moves to work at her robe’s fastenings. He makes quick work of them, baring her down to her waist in moments. His hands slide over her skin, dancing over the scars she earned fighting the Blight, to reach her breasts. He palms them, pinches her already hardened nipples as Nathaniel groans at the sight.

“Look at you, Commander,” he murmurs, pulling away from her lips to kiss along her jaw. “Were you planning this?”

She nods and Nathaniel smirks, moving past her ear to nip at Anders’ lower lip. The mage growls and uses his free hand to pull him in for a real kiss. Sophie moves her foot against Nathaniel’s cock again and he pulls away from Anders with a gasp.

He grabs Sophie’s waist and hauls her into his lap, settling her knees on either side of his hips. She lets him move her, pulling her robe off as she goes until she’s sitting completely naked on top of him. He hums his approval as he pulls her hips down against his, fingers digging into the pale skin of her hips.

Their lips play together, moving along familiar patterns as their tongues tangle together. Nathaniel pulls hers into his mouth, sucking on it, reveling in the loud moan she can’t hold back. When he releases her, she bites at his lower lip, teasing the flesh between her teeth.

One of his hands moves from where it settled against her ass to the thatch of hair between her legs, teasing through the curls until--

“ _ Maker _ , you’re soaked.” The kiss broken, she leans back and presses against his hand. “Been thinking about this?”

She nods but doesn’t speak, waiting as his fingers slide through her slick, not giving her nearly the pressure she wants. He pulls his hand away, just brushing over her pearl, and offers his glistening fingers to Anders.

The mage opened his own robes while Sophie and Nathaniel were distracted, watching their display with one hand idly stroking himself. He accepts Nathaniel’s fingers, wrapping his lips around them and cleaning off Sophie’s arousal with his tongue.

Nathaniel licks his lips at the feeling of Anders sucking his fingers, a satisfied groan rumbling out from the center of his chest. Sophie huffs at the loss of feeling, but trails her hands down Nathaniel’s tunic until she can grab two handfuls of it and pull it off over his head. It flutters to the floor behind the couch, and Sophie and Anders both pause to drink in the rogue’s form.

With his chest bare, they can see that he has a necklace that matches theirs: a thin silverite chain holding a protection rune. Sophie runs her finger along the chain, then presses her hand flat against the rune, feeling the warmth of his corded muscles. With a grin, she leans back in to nibble at Nathaniel’s jawline, her heated skin sending shivers through his body.

Anders, tired of being left out, leans in and wraps his hand around Sophie’s arm. He pulls her toward him, and she obediently slides off of Nathaniel’s lap and climbs onto his. With confidence borne of practice, she wraps her arms around his neck and plunges her tongue into his mouth as she teases her entrance across his length. He gasps into her mouth, gripping her hips tightly to pull her closer.

Nathaniel slides his hand up her back, feeling the muscles moving under her skin as she grinds her hips against Anders’. She arches against his touch, sighing into Anders’ mouth. After a moment, Nathaniel’s other hand is on her as well, sliding around to her front to massage at her breasts.

She whines and presses harder against Anders, making the mage gasp and buck against her involuntarily. Nathaniel chuckles, breath tickling the back of her neck as he leans in to scrape his teeth across her skin.

At his touch, she breaks away from kissing Anders to turn and kiss Nathaniel instead. Caught between her two men, she grinds harder against Anders and keens in surprise when he lifts her hips and pulls her back down, easily hilting himself inside of her.

The sudden intrusion is a welcome one, and she turns to face him, moving immediately, rolling her hips to take him as deep as she can. After a few shallow thrusts, she remembers Nathaniel behind her, completely ignored, and she stops moving on Anders to turn and look at the rogue. He doesn’t seem upset, sitting back on the couch to unlace his trousers.

Sophie stands, leaving Anders frowning, to kneel in front of Nathaniel. She bats his hands away from his trousers and finishes unlacing them, taking his cock into her hand. A bead of moisture already rests on the tip, and she leans in to lick it off. Nathaniel hisses and bucks against her mouth, and she parts her lips to let him enter her. She flattens her tongue and relaxes her jaw, letting him thrust into her until she can feel him at the back of her throat.

Nathaniel buries his hands in her hair and tilts his head back to rest against the couch as she skillfully bobs along his length. Anders watches the display for a moment, pumping his cock in one hand, until Sophie reaches out one hand towards him.

He accepts her silent invitation, moving to kneel behind her on the floor. His knees sink into the plush rug as he sits back on his heels. He uses his hands to adjust Sophie’s stance, moving her hips up and her knees apart until he can easily fit between her thighs. She props her elbows on the couch as he moves behind her, teasing the head of his cock along her entrance until he slides slowly inside of her.

She moans as he fills her, and the sound makes Nathaniel groan above her. As Anders begins to move, she lets each of his thrusts push her mouth down onto Nathaniel’s cock. He sets an easy rhythm, pleasing all three of them with each push of his hips. 

This is one of her favorite things to do when both men decide to join her in her bed. Or, in this case, when they have a couch and a fireplace to themselves in an otherwise abandoned level of the Vigil. They’ve never been so bold before, and just the idea that someone might catch them together…

“Sweet Andraste,” Anders moans from behind her, gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. “You like this, don’t you. Taking us both together where anyone could wander by.” Sophie moans and nods the best she can with her mouth full of Nathaniel, and presses back against Anders just as he’s thrusting forward. He slams into her harder than he intended, but at her loud moan, he does it again. And then again, and again, pushing her closer to the edge with each thrust.

In front of Sophie, Nathaniel is arching into her mouth with increasingly loud moans. Sophie and Anders both try to stay quiet, a habit deeply instilled from years in the Circle, but Nathaniel has no such trouble. Each time he fills Sophie’s mouth, touches the back of her throat, or feels her tongue swirl around the head of his cock, he rewards her with a throaty groan or grunt. As he grows closer to completion, he becomes louder, until he spills down her throat  with a shout.

Anders stills as Sophie swallows, allowing her a moment to catch her breath before starting to move again. She braces herself against the couch on either side of Nathaniel’s knees, locking eyes with the rogue as Anders continues fucking her.

She feels the familiar pull of the Fade as Anders readies a spell, and she tenses in anticipation just before the sparks of lightning roll over her skin. She clenches her teeth together and snaps her eyes closed as the lightning rolls over her again, a high pitched whine the only noise escaping her.

Her eyes flutter open as Nathaniel’s hands cup her face. He pulls her up for a kiss before letting her go, but he makes sure she’s still looking at him. “It’s okay, Sophie,” he murmurs, gravelly voice sending a shiver through her straight to her core. “Let me hear you. Let me hear what he’s doing to you.”

Anders slips one hand from her hip to their joining, teasing his fingers around her pearl as he sends another spark into her swollen bundle of nerves. She cries out, louder than she’s ever let herself be, as her orgasm consumes her. She throws her head back and wails, fingers and toes curling desperately as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her.

A few more thrusts and Anders is following her over the edge, shouting out his own pleasure. He falls back onto the carpet, slipping out of Sophie, and she relaxes onto Nathaniel’s lap. The rogue laughs and smooths her sweaty hair, watching as both of his lovers catch their breath.

When Sophie finally recovers, she pushes herself up onto her elbows and offers her face for Nathaniel to kiss. He obeys with a smile, pulling her closer to him.

She pulls away and looks behind her to where Anders is still lounging on the carpet. “Should we… should we go upstairs?”

Anders grins at her, but it’s Nathaniel who answers.

“Yes, let’s.”


	7. The End.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story features the siege of Vigil’s Keep and some crying.
> 
> It looks like I can write angst after all.

Sophie didn’t want to separate to defend the city of Amaranthine from the darkspawn. She wanted to keep both of her men with her, but Anders refused to leave the Vigil and Nathaniel wanted to come to the city to help regain his family’s honor.

And so she left Anders behind, praying every step of the way that she’d be able to defend the city quickly, find any survivors, and return to the keep before the darkspawn attacked. She hadn’t counted on the arrival of a talking hurlock or that she would have to go kill the Mother while the Vigil was attacked.

With each Childer she struck down, Sophie prayed that Anders was safe. With each healing spell she sent into Nathaniel’s wounds, she prayed that Anders was receiving the same loving care from someone. As she stood staring up at the Mother’s corrupted body, she prayed that she and Nathaniel would make it home to be reunited with Anders.

She didn’t expect to arrive at the Vigil two days later, still covered in the Mother’s ichor, to find waves of darkspawn still throwing themselves at the Vigil’s gates. The upgrades Voldrick made to the walls are holding strong, and archers and mages line the keep’s walls to shoot down all the darkspawn they can manage.

Despite bone-chilling exhaustion, Sophie and her companions join the fray. They attack from the rear, Nathaniel and Sophie standing back to loose arrows and spells into the crowd as Oghren and Sigrun leap at the nearest darkspawn.

It takes hours to break the hoard down until they retreat. Sophie’s never seen darkspawn fighting that relentlessly. Even when she was trying to kill the archdemon, the darkspawn were unfocused unless directed by a general or called by the archdemon itself. She may have let the Architect live, but now she worries that was a mistake.

Is this the future she has to look forward to? Fighting endlessly against darkspawn that can think and strategize, plan a siege that can last days?

Finally inside the keep, Sophie takes stock of the damages. They have few casualties, but some of her people have been lost. Justice is gone, Kristoff’s head completely severed from his body. The spirit must have gone back into the Fade, though there’s no way for Sophie to know. She makes sure to save Kristoff’s body to return to his wife. It won’t make up for the horror of seeing her husband’s corpse animated by a friendly spirit, but it’s a start.

She searches for Anders, growing more frantic by the minute. He isn’t among the survivors. He isn’t among the few dead. He isn’t resting anywhere that she can see, along the wall where Vael said he was fighting. She looks in the healers’ area, but he isn’t among the wounded or those healing.

Sophie returns to Nathaniel, trembling violently, and he immediately grabs her hands and starts to lead her toward her room. She feels sick from lack of mana and from her mounting worry. Nathaniel’s jaw is clenched, his cheek rippling under the force of his teeth grinding together. Neither of them know where Anders is, and their anger mounts the longer it takes to find him.

The last place they can think to look is the room they’ve all taken to sharing. Nathaniel throws the door open, but the room is achingly empty. Sophie stumbles forward to the bed, intending to collapse onto it, but she’s frozen by the sight of a folded piece of paper resting on her pillow.

She grabs it, hands shaking, and recognizes Anders’ slanted handwriting. She tries to read the words, but her eyes are suddenly full of tears and her breaths are coming in gasps that make it impossible. She holds the letter out to Nathaniel and lays down on her back, covering her eyes with one arm.

A long silence stretches between them as Nathaniel scans the letter. 

Then he begins to read:

_ My loves, I don’t know what will happen in this battle. I don’t know if we’ll all make it to the other side of this alive. I would say with the Maker’s blessing, but we all know the Maker has not been kind to us. _

_ Even if we all survive, things won’t stay the same. Sophie is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. She’ll be called to Weisshaupt, and they won’t look kindly on her bringing her two lovers with her.  _

_ Commanders are supposed to be above such things. Mistress Woolsey told me. I think she’s been writing letters to them, keeping her apprised of our activities. _

_ As much as I want to stay with both of you, I know I can’t. I’ve never wanted to be trapped, and--despite the love I have for both of you--the Wardens have become little better than the Circle. I have friends outside of Ferelden that need my help, and I can no longer ignore their plight. _

_ Take care of Pounce for me. Don’t let Woolsey give him away. _

_ I love you. Both of you. More than I thought I ever could. Don’t try to find me. I’ll return when I can. _

_ Don’t forget me. _

_ Anders. _

As Nathaniel reaches the end of the letter, his voice trails off and he sinks onto the bed next to Sophie. She’s rolled onto her side, and when Nathaniel puts his hand on her side, he can feel the sobs wracking her body. He rubs soothing circles over her armor even as his own tears fall.

“Why won’t anyone stay with me?” Her voice is plaintive, wavering, not at all the self-confident Sophie Nathaniel usually hears. “Everyone I love  _ leaves _ .” Her voice breaks and her sobs become audible, spilling onto the sheets.

Nathaniel lays down behind her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her flat against his chest. “I’m still here,” he whispers into her hair, trying to hold her together even as he’s falling apart himself.

Sophie’s wail lets him know she doesn’t believe him, that his words aren’t enough to fill the void in her chest that Anders’ abandonment left behind. He just holds her, letting his own tears fall into her hair, until she finally calms.

Her breaths still come in shaky gasps, but her eyes are dry when she rolls over to look at him. She cups his face with her hands, holding him still so she can look into his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Nate.” Her voice is hoarse from her sobs, and he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe he just left us.”

Sophie’s face crumples again, but she maintains her hold on him. “You still have me,” she offers, and he smiles.

“You still have me, too. I won’t leave you, Sophie.” She bites her lip, a watery smile threatening to break through. “I promise.”

She looses a shaky breath and pulls him in to brush her lips against his.


End file.
